


Drugged-Withdrawal

by Control_Room, Random_ag



Series: Tortured Tales [22]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Guilt, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Relapse, Resistance, Substance Abuse, Temptation, Withdrawal, threats of drugging, unnamed drug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Temptation calls.Resistance is key.
Relationships: Joey Drew/Henry Stein
Series: Tortured Tales [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023520
Kudos: 1





	Drugged-Withdrawal

Johan was a hard worker. He was, he really tried his absolute best in all matters of his job. Even if that meant dropping his cravings for a small dose that would ease him out of his body. 

It was not easy, no, and he relapsed at times, but what could he have done? The drive only grew worse and worse with each moment away from it. 

And now that god awful Derekson had fucking strutted into his office like it was nobody's business and he was most definitely _not_ in the mood to handle any sort of bullshittery from this asshole excuse of a man, jittery and on his third bottle of Coca-cola that day. His teeth ground in the back of his mouth, and he forced himself to release his jaw in order not to have them reduce them to dust, and to order the man as calmly as he could; “Get the hell out.”

Johnny flashed him a sickly disarming shit eating grin, cocking an eyebrow.

“How lovely to see you, too.” he cooed, reaching into his suit jacket. Johan did the same.

“I said get out.”

“And I won't do that.” 

They both drew their respective weapons from their suits, Johan’s revolver cocked and aimed while Johnny held something else entirely. 

It was a syringe. Full to the brim.

Johan looked at his contents and felt his throat dry, his already shaky hand quaking all the more.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, staring at it.

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Johnny smiled, swirling it between his fingers. “Oh, can I fuck you? Consider it a trade off, sweetcheeks.”

“No!” Johan stepped back, aghast. His mouth still watered as his eyes remained fixated on the device. “I won’t do somethin’ like that, I’m no honeytrap!”

“But you want it.”

“No, I don’t….”

“You know you do.” Johnny turned it in its hand slowly, over and over, Joey unwittingly following it with his eyes. It was like dangling a bottle of water in front of a prisoner sentenced to death by dehydration. “I can see how bad you want it. It must feel so good, doesn’t it?”

“I… wouldn’t know… how do I know that’s wh-what I want…?” Johan licked his lips, trying to concentrate, but that was made so very difficult. “It could b-be somethin’ that just makes me out for the count.”

“I knew you would ask that, so I’ll let you have a single speck to put to inspection,” Johnny grinned, chipping away at Johan’s defenses. “You know the compounds. So take a look.”

One single fleck was on Joey’s desk. He hesitantly pressed it to his finger while taking out his microscope from his desk, and, sitting, placed it under the device. It certainly looked like it. But was it? What were the chemicals that made this up? With the computer, he checked. Johan leaned back, and Johnny leaned over him from behind, his breath beating hot upon the side of his neck.

“So?”

“Ah, it’s real….”

“Only the best.”

Johan shivered. His eyes closed. Holy hell, he wanted it. He needed it. It would make everything better. He nearly moaned when the needle brushed his wrist. It was desperation incarnate rearing and keening in his chest, and in his wild panic, he shut it down, strengthening himself with the sight of his own weakness. No. He was not going to give into the temptation. Think about emotions. Think about how real they feel without it. Think about how real every touch is with a clear mind, even if the body aches, those touches make it so much better. 

“Do we have a deal, Joey?”

“No….”

“No?”

“N-no.”

A hand pressed on his shoulder tighter, making his breathing hitch in fear. 

“I'll say it again.” Johnny purred, a hint of malice contained within, as if Johan had not heard him well. “Do we have a deal?”

Johan swallowed air.

“No.”

“ _No?_ ”

Oh, there was rage. There was someone losing their patience. Joey’s breathing grew erratic and he forced it to quell. Nothing Johnny could do would hurt him. He was stronger than this. Teeth grazed his neck, and his hand found his revolver once more. Wrist taken gentle yet vice like. 

“You heard m-me correctly,” Johan steeled himself, straightening his back and lifting his head. “No.”

The syringe. Joey felt terror. It did not drive into his skin, and yet he was both nervous and excited for when it might; anxious. The churning sensation brought him to a point of nausea. 

“I _said_ .” Johnny hissed at the end of his calm. The metal needle pressed burning cold and sharp on dark skin without piercing it. “We _have_ a _deal_.”

There was no blood, nor the pinching sensation of chill as the thin needle entered his body. There was no rush of chemicals to shut the light off in his brain, nothing to send him into a spiral that would drive him to do anything for more.

There was no fight. There was no yell. There was no Johnny. There was no syringe. There was only the gentle sensation of fingers running through his hair even as his head ached. Lungs pulled in too little and pushed out too much-- had Johnny already gotten what he wanted from him, or had none of that happened at all?

“Johan?”

That voice…

That voice!

“Ray!” Joey’s arms wrapped around the man’s neck, inhaling his scent like it was the last speck of oxygen left in the entire universe. “Oh, h-heavens….”

“Are you alright, honey?” Ray asked him, brushing a thumb over his cheek with concern. “You seemed to be having a bad dream.”

“Oh, I did, but dreams are dreams, ah, my dear?” Johan sighed, smiling, cuddling into Ray’s soft stomach, the muscle moving as he chuckled a bit. “I’m okay now.”

“Well, your withdrawal makes you more likely to have vivid dreams,” Ray smiled softly. “It’s okay, my darling honeybee.”

He pressed a kiss on Johan's ink blue hair, stroking his back gently. He nudged the chicano a little to keep him from dozing off again.

“You slept so much in these past few days, sweetheart,” he murmured against his scalp. “Having a case of hypersomnia after last time?”

Johan curled into himself sheepishly: “It’s what I get, isn't it?” he murmured with a joyless chuckle.

“Hey, hey, don't say that! Remaining clean is hard, I know that.”

“I shouldn't have relapsed.”

“And now you're trying not to make the same mistake again. You're striving to improve.”

“I still failed.”

“And you're trying again,” Ray lifted his head with a finger. “That’s what makes you strong.

“I'm not doing a very good job about it, am I?” Johan asked, cranky from his poor sleep. “I can't even work properly with this… this darn quicker longer sleep I keep having--”

“Hypersomnia?”

“Y-yes, that. It makes it so hard to think.”

“Next time you show me your whole stock, hm?” Ray asked, cocking a brow. Johan blushed. “And that way we won’t have any hypersomniacs or insomniacs running around. Got it, baby doll?”

“You’re a bastard,” Johan harrumphed. The doctor laughed, and interjected; “A damn handsome one at that, you'll have to admit.”

“Ugh. You’re makin’ this migraine worse.” 

“With my good looks?” the half scottish frenchman (or half french scotsman, depending on your point of view) posing with a smirk. 

“No, with your pompous attitude. You’re so loud.”

“Should I whisper to you sweet nothings instead?” 

“No.”

“How about sexy truths?”

“Ray.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I heard an ‘absolutely’ and nothing else,” his smirk grew. 

Johan treated him to a squinted, utterly done glare. He began rising from the bed among Ray's confusion, even pushing against the doctor's strong arms loosely wrapped around his waist.

“Honeybee, where are you going?”

“To the couch, taking you with me and leaving you there.” the animator answered so plainly that Ray almost snorted, “So I can finally get some g-good fucking sleep.”

“Good fucking sleep?” Ray asked, grin even wider now. “So good fucking sleeping with me?”

“Ray!”

“I’d be down for that.” 

“Ray!”

“Are you?” Ray’s hand gently went down his shoulder, to his hand, to his knee, pulling him back onto the bed, still grinning like a wolf. “Are you, cutie?”

Johan pushed him off of himself with as much force as he would allow himself, flushed beyond belief: “I just want to sleep, you dam--”

Joey’s explicative was sliced short by lips on his own. His eyes went wide, and then drifted shut. 

He wrapped his arms around his stout partner, replying to his gentle kisses and enjoying how Ray's fingers brushed through his hair, soothingly massaging his skull, causing brief moans of relief to escape him. He let his head fall to the side as Ray gently kissed his cheek, nuzzling his shoulder, and grinning as Johan slowly relaxed, curled around him.

“This a good lullabye, babe?” he murmured.

Johan hummed affirmatively, caressing strawberry blond curls.


End file.
